


ad infinitum.

by SovereignZenith



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Slow Build, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SovereignZenith/pseuds/SovereignZenith
Summary: There’s one thing one must know about Hermes.Well- there’s many things- manymanythings—But the most important thing one must know is that Hermes. Doesn’t. Wait.He doesn’t. Or… tries not too. He despises waiting. He is- after all- thegod of swiftness. TheDivine Messenger. And one can imagine his job is very very hectic- and very very important-And- all things considered—He can’taffordto wait.There is always a letter to be sent- parcels to be delivered- notes to be passed- messages to be orated- always a place to be-Gods forbid he run late!All of that aside and if he were given the option— Hermes probably- most likely- almostcertainly- wouldn’t have taken his most recent promotion should he have known it requiredwaiting.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes, Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 738





	ad infinitum.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly- I've fallen in love with this game and these two in particular and it's been absolutely AGES since i've written anything so-
> 
> Im absolutely sorry if this makes no sense- but i had this idea and I just had to get it out of my system so- here ya go!

There’s one thing one must know about Hermes. 

Well- there’s many things- many _many_ things— 

But the most important thing one must know is that Hermes. Doesn’t. Wait.

He doesn’t. Or… tries not too. He despises waiting. He is- after all- the _god of swiftness_. The _Divine Messenger_. And one can imagine his job is very very hectic- and very very important-

And- all things considered— 

He can’t _afford_ to wait.

There is always a letter to be sent- parcels to be delivered- notes to be passed- messages to be orated- always a place to be-

_Gods forbid he run late!_

All of that aside and if he were given the option— Hermes probably- most likely- almost certainly- wouldn’t have taken his most recent promotion should he have known it required _waiting._

Now- the act itself, he admits- of guiding souls to the shores of the river Styx is fine. It is! Really!

He weaves a thin trail of light where he flies across the ocean of towering clouds- wind rapturously flitting against skin and feathers- the doomed souls behind him groaning and garbling as he yanks them about the skies, and he doesn’t really listen- can’t listen- and-

He’s here. In the blink of an eye and flash of hazy gold light. The shores of the Styx. The crimson, murky river flows forth in front of him, it’s bloody waters illuminated by a single red flame- primordial he supposes- as he cant imagine anyone stumbling across this place for quite some time. The stream babbles much like actual water and he can’t help the sudden lead weight he feels as he breathes in the acrid still air of somewhere so close to the land of the dead.

 _This place isn’t quite right_. He thinks plainly, eyes flitting about- nothing really holding his attention. And- between the souls who whimper uselessly- and the river- who’s sound echoes an actual brook but yet inexplicably doesn’t- he can't really discern much else.

But- he knows. He knows what he has to do and he hates it. 

He breathes a soft sigh through his nose- his grip on his staff white knuckled- foot beginning to tap quickly on the ground as he… waits.

Waits and waits and waits…

And really- it shouldn't surprise anyone that a few seconds of waiting causes him to fix his jaw, irritation setting in- brows narrowed and lips downturned as he glares out at the ever constant and moving Styx for his new coworker who- he has to remind himself- isn’t late but who couldn’t stand to be here just a little bit- just a tiny bit- early.

He sighs again, that irritation bubbling upward, causing his throat to tighten considerably, arms crossing and switching weights from one foot to the other and-

Okay- perhaps he was a little upset at his father or- whoever initially recommended him as the best person for this job and it’s not like he could say no— he couldn’t say no. Not that he would initially because-

Well- when one thinks of promotion, one thinks of benefits or…benefits- or… okay! Just benefits really since he doesn’t get _paid._

_Although, maybe he should get paid. But that wouldn’t go over very well with his relatives- for sure- for sure!_

But anyways- he couldn’t say no. Because mortals tend to copulate quite a bit which in turn- makes more mortals and more mortals means more death. So much so that actual Death can’t keep up which- who would’ve thought Death could fall behind-

A hush falls over the shades suddenly and Hermes feels something shift.

Like an invisible force- a weight present in this liminal space- 

Helios’ chariot flees past the horizon- taking with him the comforting vanilla sunbeams that blanketed the ever looming entrance to the Underworld- and the colors mute- lifeless grays and shifting darkness overtake his vision- and roiling silver clouds, illuminated by moonbeams, billow forth against the rivers surface. 

And amongst the distant fog, a figure- large and imposing can barely be seen, paddling slowly across the crimson Styx, approaching the ragged wooden docks.

But just as the skiff advances- the being raises their oar in one practiced, deliberate motion- setting the end on the dock with a _clunk!_ that seems to echo and echo endlessly, halting the boats advance, allowing the silhouette to easily step onto the docks, rope in hand as they begin to meticulously wrap it around the nearest beam of rotten wood.

The shades are still silent and- Hermes realizes rather belatedly that he too holds his breath in the presence of Charon. Charon. His new coworker.

“Charon! Or- I assume that would be you- but- of course it would be- There aren’t many Stygian Boatman around are there?” Hermes starts, anger fading into a gentle simmer because- yes- he’s still annoyed but he’s still going to be a gentleman- and really- Charon did nothing wrong.

The winged god approaches, tugging the string of souls behind him who begin to ceaselessly groan once more, the wood creaking as he quickly steps up to the imposing silhouette with whom he intends to shake hands with- exchange a laugh- perhaps a quick snappy story of some sort- and then Hermes will hand over the souls and the job will be done and-

Perhaps he should have considered the details of Chthonic deities. How they would act. How they would look. But he doesn’t. Because while Hermes under normal circumstances would consider not walking up to this towering figure in the middle of nowhere- Hermes right now- is impatient- and annoyed- and didn’t consider-

Didn't consider that up close- it is easier to distinguish the boatman’s features… The way the primordial red light bathes liquid crimson against his ghoulish visage- how his eyes- single specks of bright and burning lilac burn with the ferocity of someone well acquainted with death- how plumes of violet smog roll out of his maw as he exhales- wisps like gnarled fingers curling into the air- slowly drifting up and up and up before disappearing once more-

And suddenly- his eyes are on him and Hermes has to set his jaw tight to keep from shivering under that terrifying gaze, mouth dry and expression trained to be neutral because- because he’s an Olympian and Olympians don’t show fear. Even in the face of death.

And he doesn’t. Astoundingly- even as the boatman stares him down as if he’s committed the most heinous of crimes right in front of him. Which- he could have- it’s not like Hermes knows.

No- instead, the messenger extends a hand, which is definitely not shaking- and says, “W-well, allow me to introduce myself! Hermes! Messenger of the gods! Swiftest in all of Olympus- if I do say so myself!”

Silence. 

A pause.

He feels the string of souls quiver as Charon continues his silent appraisal, his wide brimmed hat casting a dark shadow over his face- head tipped and curious- as he stares and stares- mouth agape- billowing smog-

Invisible currents pull the fabric of his garb as if he were suspended in water and, as he finally steps forward- the tap of his feet sounds… distant. As if underneath all the fabric and glistening gold ornaments there isn’t a body to begin with.

Hermes is about to pull away, about to step back, the shadow of this figure now engulfs him, the weight he felt earlier grows closer- as if his very presence bends reality to meet him- and an instinct to run claws along his ribcage- telling him to flee- that there is danger- that he has to fly- to get away-

A gnarled hand grabs his and it’s cool, but… not unpleasant. Charon grips his hand softly, with a gentleness he… honestly doesn't expect and Hermes feels a breath he didn’t know he was holding, escape his lips as Charon slowly shakes their joined hands.

“It’s ah- it’s good to meet you!” Hermes breathlessly wheezes, turning his head away in fear of smelling the death that has to accompany the boatman’s existence.

He clears his throat, “And I bet we will meet very very often my good associate as I am now a fellow Psychopomp! Guiding souls to the shores of the Styx and all! Gotta help you out considering mortals don’t quite last all that long!” He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He most likely fails. Charon tips his head to the side once more.

“Well, Im sure you’ve a busy day- or night- ahead of yourself, ferrying these poor souls across the Styx! So I suppose I hand these off to you and I’ll be on my way-“

“ _Hrrrrnnnnnnng._ ” A raspy voice replies, and Hermes’ mouth snaps shut, eyes fixed on the boatman as Charon squeezes the gods hand once before letting go.

“I… what?” Hermes tries again. Because of course he does.

Charon is silent, until he isn’t, a plume of smoke billowing from a gaping maw as he wheezes, “ _Hrrrrrrrrnnnnngg._ ”

The sound, like a corpse trying to communicate from beyond eternity, like something rattling through empty ribs and a dead decaying throat causes Hermes to shiver physically and this time- this once-

He steps back.

“Yes. Yes. Ah- I really should get going now-“ He hands off the string of souls in one motion, the wings on his sandals flapping as he turns quickly, letting the wind welcome his presence as he dashes off- 

And he is back. Back in the skies. Drinking in the fresh air- the cool night heaven against his skin.

And as the light of the moon bathes him in silver- as Mount Olympus comes in full view up ahead- he thinks-

_That could have gone better._

——

The day after, Hermes travels the surface, encroaching on the deathbed of some mortal whom he doesn’t care about, only that he knows he doesn’t deserve the merciful death offered to him and pries the golden obol out from between clattering teeth as he releases his final breath.

“Sorry, gotta have this one. Just in case.” The god whispers to a lifeless still body, as he stuffs the obol in his bag.

That very same afternoon, he polishes it, removes spit and dirt and grime from its every surface before pocketing it once more, the obol a comforting weight as he next approaches the decaying docks of the Underworld.

Because this time Hermes knows. Hermes knows the boatman wouldn’t pass up the golden gleam of an obol. The man is dressed in them, the ornaments clinking together as he glides across the wood. The gold illuminating crimson- like the color of ambrosia- brilliant in the light of the flame.

Yes. Hermes will keep this obol close. Because if Charon is anything like his siblings- like any of the gods on Olympus, then surely- surely- he will need it one day.

One day, when Hermes slights the other unknowingly and that silent rage turns inescapable. The presence of infinity engulfing him as the boatman succumbs to his vitriol.

 _Surely._ He thinks.

_Just in case._

——

That day. It never comes.

Years of working with Charon- decades upon decades- and Hermes has learned… many things.

Charon is not like the gods on Olympus.

This fact at least, comforts him more than any other.

_Olympus is always bustling with activity- chaos uncontrolled and running wild. His own job is hectic in and of itself. So… it is no wonder he somehow has found relief in the calmest aspect of his new promotion._

He works meticulously and with a purpose and drive Hermes can come to understand and respect.

_Hermes gets used to their meetings… the monotony. He can count the seconds between every movement Charon makes with his oar- the seconds he paddles- the clunk! against the docks. The tying of the rope._

_He can count them and they would be the same. Every time._

He can speak, despite what one would initially believe, it is just hidden. Buried in long groans and drawn sighs.

_Sometimes Hermes will try to listen closely. Hold his breath so that he may parse the words- if there are any. To pluck them from the oblivion of his jaw and string them together once more._

_There was a time when he thought there were none. But there are. And he is getting better. Better at tying them together again._

All of these things coalesce into one very simple, very poignant feeling Hermes is having quite a bit of trouble wrapping his mind around.

Yet as the presence of Charon looms ever closer and Hermes tugs the string of souls into his outstretched hand, he stores that feeling away, behind an easy smile and shallow greetings not yet ready to face the truth.

Yet this truth, this simple feeling rings like the toll of death- shaking the very core of his soul- destroying the supports that keep it aloft- letting it crumble and fall.

Hermes waits.

He waits and watches.

Watches as the shades hand off their obols into the boatman’s open hand, slowly drifting onto the boat to be taken some place or another- watches as Charon counts the coin with a deftness that makes laughter bubble up in his throat, which echoes and echoes and echoes…

Charon grips the change, slowly turning his head. Lilac eyes shift, flicker, almost as if blinking- as if surprised to see the god still there and honestly, it’s a surprise to Hermes as well.

For the messenger is hovering a couple feet off the ground as if ready to take off at a moments notice, the wings on his sandals beating like hummingbirds wings and yet he stays.

He stays and says, “Wrack up a lot of change there, eh my good associate? Quite a bit! Quite a bit! Although, I can’t really imagine what you must need it for. Or why. Is there an entirely new currency in the Underworld?”

A second. A pause. And then-

Charon stuffs the obols in the bag hanging loosely from his hip, shoulders heaving in what can only be a shrug, golden ornaments clinking together softly as he grumbles, “ _Hrrrrrrrrrrrg Hraaaaaaaaaa._ ”

Hermes’ jaw drops and he crosses his arms, “You… You own a business?!”

“ _Hnnngggggrrr…?_ ”

“Well, yes. Wait, no. This is a job, yes? You are employed by Hades. That’s not the same as- as owning a business!” Hermes says, and he can’t help the delighted laugh that escapes his throat.

Charon for the most part is silent, gazing at the god curiously before he groans deliberate and almost fond- taking a few steps forward, letting his shadow engulf him and somehow… he feels less intimidating than before. Although, Hermes doesn’t know how or when that even happened. _Perhaps when he found out Charon is not half as vindictive as his relatives…_

Hermes smiles, stopping another laugh by pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, “No! Yes! Yes! Of course! I don’t doubt your ability to run a business my fine ferryman, it’s just…”

Hermes sighs, tying together his own thoughts as he drifts backwards, crossing his legs, lounging, suspended in air as he says, “It’s just- didn’t quite expect this! So the obols are…used for this shop of yours, yeah? Interesting! Seems Im learning quite a lot about you, associate of mine!”

“ _Hnnnnnggg…?_ ”

“What else have I learned?” Hermes’ eyes suddenly fix on Charon, who's gaze in turn is fixed assuredly on him and he feels his cheeks heat, his heart race as he picks apart everything that he’s learned so far- and somehow divulging everything… to the very person whom he studied feels… overwhelming. 

A font of bashfulness overflows into something Hermes isn’t quite used to and doesn’t know how to handle and so he turns his head- floating backwards, setting the point of the Caduceus down into the soft shore ground; an anchor to keep himself from drifting away…

And all the while Charon waits. And Hermes learns one more thing. 

He is a very very patient man.

But Hermes, the coward that he is says, “Oh! I mean- just- that you are very different from my relatives. My relatives… on Olympus.”

Technically not a lie. Just not the entire truth.

Charon slowly tips his head to the side, a gesture that silently conveys, ‘ _Different how…?_ ’

“Just- different. It’s hard to explain. My relatives I suppose are a bit bombastic and… pompous compared to… well- you know what I mean- It’s all a chaotic mess up there and it’s nice being here- away from it all sometimes- kind of like a breath of fresh air, yeah? Or I suppose the air isn’t really fresh here… Like a moment to relax maybe? And I don’t normally relax so…”

Charon takes this information in quietly. And Hermes feels the ichor in his veins rush- can hear his heart pounding in his ears before Charon dips his head in a nod.

A rush of smoke billows from his mouth as he groans, long and approving, “ _Hyrrrrrrnnnng…Gnnnnnnnnhhhhr…_ ”

The breath all but leaves Hermes’ lungs, the words parsing together, his heart jumping and he finds himself nearly floating back to the earth, his cheeks warm as he says, “O-oh… well- I…thank you… I… enjoy working with you too.”

Charon nods, another plume of smoke wisps from his mouth, floating between them, suspended and looking closely, Hermes swears he can see the night sky, billowing softly and sweetly before disappearing forever.

Hermes waits still, even as the boatman crosses the docks and steps onto the soul filled boat, untying the rope, pushing the skiff off and away from the docks and dipping it into the crimson Styx.

All of it is the same. The motions. The seconds between.

Except this time, Charon looks back, violet eyes pinning Hermes where he is suspended and, with a ghost of a smile, plumes of infinity and stars escaping his maw, he tips his hat and disappears behind the curtain of fog.

Hermes stays after that.

He stays.

And he embraces the truth.

_He doesn’t mind the wait._

——

They talk. Or gossip really.

A camaraderie forms between them.

Something unspoken yet felt eternally.

Hermes- eager as he is- passes by the gods on Olympus with newfound vigor- a purpose in mind- a person to see-

He doesn’t miss the way Aphrodite grins at him knowingly.

He chooses to ignore it.

Today, or… tonight- is a night like any other. It hasn’t been long before Hermes has stayed, watching the souls board. Watching Charon count the obols he has received.

However, tonight is the first night he witnesses a soul who has nothing to offer.

They are small. Frail looking. Unmistakably the echo of a small child that has passed far too early…

And Hermes watches. Watches as they sidle up, blank eyes curious and none the wiser as Charon offers his hand for the coin needed to pass into the Underworld.

And for a single moment, Hermes feels dread. Dread and sympathy. His lips downturn into a frown, brows pinching together.

The young soul in lieu of a coin, instead places her hand in his, and Hermes’ jaw clenches shut, his hand finding its way to his own obol, keeping it close, watching as Charon’s eyes flicker and blink, the grip on his oar tightening before stepping away.

His hand closes around the child's. Hermes stiffens, thinks about handing his obol off to the shade- but that wouldn’t be fair- and that might anger Charon- 

The boatman sets his oar down, a wisp of smoke billowing forth, his other hand raised…

And he plucks an obol from his crest, his lilac eyes shifting between the shade and the coin before he drops it into his bag, leading her to the boat.

The child drifts with him, unaware as she gets placed along with the retinue.

Hermes watches, his world crumbling, then being rebuilt- whispers, “C-Charon…?”

He catches the boatman look back just as he pushes off the docks, the glow of his eyes soft and merciful as he lifts a single finger to his bony maw and disappears behind the fog.

Hermes feels his heart race still.

His mind feels clouded- feels elsewhere.

He lifts his hand to his cheeks and feels they are warm- feels that he is smiling ever so slightly despite also feeling numb.

And perhaps he tries to… but he cannot ignore this.

_He really likes Charon._

——

He supposes there are worst places to spend his break than here…

He walks the shores of the Styx. Watches the white light of the moon awash crimson waters in liquid silver and- he feels calm. Serene.

Long ago, he thought this place discontenting but… now…

He quite likes the serenity. A place between two worlds- living and dead- where the hum of cicadas and whisper of the wind in the leaves sounds like distant memories and the air is still and cool-

A groan cuts through the darkness as he swiftly turns on his heel, gripping the Caduceus staff tightly, wings beating, dust lifting- and-

Lilac eyes watch him closely- studying him as Charon shifts, sitting upright from the seat of his skiff.

It’s terrifying how quickly he relaxes- letting down his walls around the object of his affections-

“A-ah! Charon! Sorry my good associate! I didn’t quite expect you to be here!” Hermes blurts, eyes glancing behind him, bashful smile on his face as he admits, “A-and Im afraid I don’t really have any souls with me at the moment. Sorry about that, my fine fellow. Next time for certain!”

Charon doesn’t say anything- instead, he cocks his head to the side, one hand clenching around his oar and the other raised as he gestures out at the skiff. An invitation.

“Ah well. I…” Hermes thinks, tooth worrying at his lower lip before he breathes a sigh. He acquiesces.

The messenger floats forward, gliding easily onto one of the wooden seats, an omnipresent gust of wind kicking around them before settling just as he does.

And they wait. Wait and watch the moon.

_The stars- the millions of stars blanketing the night sky- reminds him of the plumes of smoke that escapes Charons maw- of endless space and galaxies rolling from his throat…_

But while Hermes doesn’t mind the wait- that much, he at least has accepted, he is still curious- and he must know-

“Do you make exceptions for everyone…?”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Charon’s stare, fixed on him- only on him, as he replies, “ _Nnnhhhgg…_ ”

“Kinda figured that.” Hermes replies, “Then why her…?”

“ _Whhhhhnnnngg Nhhhhhhhhhggghhh…_ ”

“Why not? Well- I mean- isn’t that what you are here for? To accept payment _before_ taking souls to the Underworld?”

“ _Ssssshhhggggggghhh…_ ”

“You…” Hermes snaps his mouth shut before echoing, “You exist outside of your purpose…”

He sees Charon nod, the wide brim of his hat obscuring his eyes for just a moment.

“Aren’t you afraid…?”

“ _Hnnnuuurrrg…?_ ”

“Well- of Hades, of course!”

This time, Hermes shifts his eyes so that they rest on Charon- who's observant gaze has seemingly never left him and he watches as a puff of smoke and oblivion billow from a gaping mirthful maw- head tipped back and violet glow of his eyes seemingly moving elsewhere. He seems almost bashful yet his groan begets tenacity, “ _Hnnnhhhhhgggrrr…_ ”

“No…?”

“ _Nnnggggghhh._ ”

_He is not afraid._

Hermes smiles then, resting his head on his hand, elbow propped on the railing, “Well… I suppose that’s good.”

A beat passes before Charon shifts over to where Hermes sits, the brush of cool fabric against his arm enough for the messengers heart to race, and he has to physically stop himself from leaning into him.

He fails but it’s alright. He doesn’t think Charon minds as the messenger leans his weight against him…

“ _Hnnnngggrrrr…_ ”

Hermes smiles, a puff of laughter passing his lips as he mumbles, “Yes… we should do this more often.”

_And they do._

——

Nobody- Nobody- has quite captured his attention- has quite pervaded his thoughts like Charon.

He dreams of drowning in stars and smoke- the smokescreen billowing forth- plumes lapping at his skin- gnarled rough fingers gliding across his chest with a gentleness he knows Charon does indeed possess. Because he would be- gentle that is- perhaps even-

-slow fingers curl and twist inside of him and he whimpers- teeth digging into a nearby pillow.

He doesn’t normally wait here in bed- doesn’t normally sleep but- 

But he’s pent up quite a bit- and even the Divine Messenger deserves a little time off to do with as he pleases. And it just so happens what he wants to do is please _himself_.

So- here he is- thoughts focused solely on Charon- because of course-

Because how could he not-

Not when he’s witnessed this beautiful, wonderful man surprise him in so many countless countless ways.

He finds himself thinking of Charon outside of work- while he works- now- lust filled and longing-

Now- now he thinks of Charon’s heated stare as he sprawls on the seat of his boat during their breaks- doesn’t miss the glance of lilac past his waist and down his legs-

Doesn’t miss the lingering touches, the gentle brush of his skin against his- where be it passing a bottle of wine and their fingers brush and linger-

And perhaps all this means Charon feels something for him- or maybe Hermes is too hopeful and too desperate because _it’s been a while_ honestly-

And perhaps he’s been denying himself the truth for so long because he’s afraid.

He is after all, the god of swiftness. He doesn’t _wait_ for anyone.

But he wants to. And he has. He has countless times and probably will- forevermore.

So maybe he doesn’t have to deny himself any longer.

Maybe he can afford this moment. This truth. Even as it cuts through- like Eros’ arrow- sticking painfully through his heart- through flesh and bone and the spaces between infinity.

He gasps, spilling across his sheets- eyes fluttering back and dreaming of stars- of comets- of endlessness-

_He’s in love with Charon._

——

Business passes as per usual. Except it doesn’t.

And while he promises he would ignore these newfound - _I mean were they ever really new?_ \- feelings, it’s getting harder and harder.

Especially when everyone finds out about their new not so distant relative running amok in the Underworld.

Zagreus is a storm across Olympus. It is all everyone really talks about and it takes everything for the god to keep his own mouth shut because among everyone- among everything-

Charon trusted him with the truth.

He trusted him- confided him with his plans- and he can’t betray him. Physically cannot.

He couldn’t.

He would do anything Charon tells him. 

And that means lying to his family- which honestly isn’t the worst. Lying comes easily enough for Hermes who spins shallow tales and easy half-truths like yarn for the Olympians to thread as they please.

He handles the rumors deftly. Swiftly steering them away from doubt- away from war. Away from cataclysm.

He tries and tries and tries-

Because he would do anything for Charon.

It… also helps, as he is handed a bottle of Ambrosia, and as Zagreus fades from view, that the younger god is quite a good fellow. 

So, when the storm of Zagreus comes to it’s apex- and their family is reunited finally… he is happy. Happy for his cousin. Happy for everyone.

He twists the cork of the ambrosia off with his teeth, spitting it out into the Styx below, the amber liquid smelling of the sweetest victory imaginable and he sits back with a huff, Charon sitting just ahead.

The boat tips and shifts, the sound of the feast still going strong in the distance yet they are drifting farther and farther away.

“Didn’t realize I’d be going on a voyage tonight. Today? Whatever time it is. Hey, don’t you normally need an obol for the ferryman to take you across the Styx…?” Hermes says with a small smile, pulling an obol from his bag.

It has been some time since he’s held this coin. Even longer still since that first encounter- since he’d felt trepidation around Charon-

Now… he hands the coin over without a moments hesitation.

Charon has been oddly silent as of late, lilac eyes boring into him as if searching- searching for… something. Hermes can’t really tell.

However, eventually he does look down, the coin glinting in the flames surrounding them and he reaches forward, gently plucking the small thing from his hand.

Hermes immediately misses the soft brush of his skin more than the cold weight of the metal.

“Well, suppose that’s tip enough for you! Good enough for a single voyage, yeah? So why don’t you show me around my good ferryman.”

Charon eyes him curiously before he tips his hat, smoke billowing forward and he has to stop himself from capturing the smoke and stars in his hands before they wisp away.

They travel everywhere. Anywhere. As far as the Styx can take them. Trading stories and laughs, passing the bottle of ambrosia back and forth as they indulge in this moment of peace- of paradise- of victory. 

Crossing into the fiery Phlegethon where the fires of hell burn bright and hot all around them.

And then into the Lethe, where the light is striking- the flowers blooming yet not quite alive- the river wisps of clouds as if they were suspended in the heavens themselves. He supposes there is poetry in this- in beauty in death— but he is no Apollo. He cannot quite craft a string of words into music but he can appreciate the beautiful irony around them. _Them._

Charon paddles diligently. Each motion the same amount of seconds between.

He smiles and laughs- all bubbly and light. He can’t help himself really. The surrounding paradise nothing when compared to the man before him.

The sound causes Charon to pause and look back, head tipped curiously as he garbles, “ _Hrrrrg…?_ ”

Hermes, still smiling, small breathless laugh escaping his lips as he admits, “Nothing! Nothing! Just- Just you.”

“ _Mhhhrg…?_ ”

“Yes you.”

Charon stands upright, both hands clutched tightly around his oar as he studies Hermes and the smaller god can’t help but laugh once more- because honestly- Charon is adorable- and handsome- and everything-

“Oh don’t look at me like that! It’s just- the oar- the same five seconds-“

“ _Hnnnnnggg Shhhhhnnnnr…?_ ”

“Yes. Five seconds to paddle. Four to switch hands- sometimes three when you’re in a rush- it’s honestly quite adorable really-“

He suddenly can’t breathe, because the boatman has all but kneeled over him, shadow and size engulfing him- blocking the light of Elysium as a rumble purrs from his throat.

And Hermes swallows, because up close he can smell the scent of the ambrosia they’d shared not long ago, as they’d traveled everywhere- can see the smoke and dust billowing forth, ribbons brushing against his cheeks- can see the soft lilac glow of Charon’s stare as if he were something so precious- so prized.

Charon’s large hand cups his cheek, thumb smoothing over soft lips and Hermes murmurs, “C-Charon…?”

Reflected in the glow of his eyes, in the stare as he leaves for work, the very same one he saw when they met for the first time eons ago, is affection.

Affection that blinks away, as if catching himself, the boatman begins to pull away, to flee, but Hermes- Hermes will not cower today, and the smaller god wraps an arm around his neck and crushes them together.

Smoke and stars and _infinity_ fill his mouth and lungs and he loses himself as his lips move against Charons, a breathless satisfied moan escaping his lips, filling the silence between them as he pulls Charon further over top of him, drinking him in- desperately- so desperately- sweeter than ambrosia- better than ambrosia.

And Charon bends with him- follows his lead- strong arms wrapping tightly around Hermes, so that all he can see, all that he can feel is Charon. Charon. Charon. Charon.

“Charon…” Hermes whispers, pulling away, turning his head as Charon nuzzles the side of his neck, wisps of smoke and galaxies kissing his skin as he does, and he is left to shiver and quake underneath his touch.

“I must- I have to know _when_ -“ Hermes breathes, his lungs full, mist the color of plums and everything lapping at his tongue as he exhales- the feeling alone enough to cause his eyes to roll back, nails digging into the fabric against Charons skin.

“ _Hnnnnngggihhhn…_ ” Charon answers, honestly- because Charon is always honest with him- always- and the breath catches in Hermes’ throat- another soft ecstatic laugh fills the space between them because Charon had loved him from the _beginning_.

Charon buries his head in the crook of his neck, shoulders shaking, a muffled echo heard between his breaths as he laughs too and Hermes cowers no longer…

He tells him. He tells him everything. The fear- _with which he admits with some shame_. The admiration. The day he found out…

All of it between heated desperate kisses, longing moans and sighs.

“I love you…” He whispers- finally. _Finally._

And Charon kisses him- long and deep, breathlessly groaning- and Hermes picks apart the words interspersed between and smiles.

_I love you too._

——

They don't make it back to the feast.

Which is fine.

More than fine.

Instead, they detour- they kiss- and kiss and _kiss_ -

And Hermes is eager and pliant and _ready_ -

And they stumble into the back of Charon’s shop or… wherever this is- Hermes wasn’t quite paying attention- and he drops his bag and the Caduceus- laughing delighted, _ecstatic_ , as bony fingers delicately brush away the fabric of his tunic off his shoulders 

And he is laid out on expensive sheets- among gold and prizes and trinkets and yet- Charon stares at him as if he is worth so much more than anything around them.

Shivering underneath a lilac stare, laying back, legs spread as he invites the other forward with a soft, genuine, smile, he admits, “Now I don’t quite mind these little soft moments here and there but- Ill be honest- I’d much prefer it if you go on and take what’s yours.”

Hermes watches with satisfaction as Charon sets his jaw, plum mist billowing from bony nostrils and between the spaces of his teeth- his hands clenched into white knuckled fists as he groans, “ _Hnnngggr…_ ”

“Now- now- I do believe Im being quite patient-“ He lies, his hand already trailing down his chest, past his stomach and to his half hard length, gripping softly, stroking slowly-

And Charon is over top of him, large hands on either side of his head, caging him in, and Hermes stares up into lilac- breathes in stars and endlessness before pulling him down, pressing his lips against the others jaw, drunk on love and starlight as he undresses the other with hasty fervor- because- he has to see- has to see this beautiful man- has to know if he’s made of galaxies and the night-

His fingers thread through silvery hair, letting the others hat fall, forgotten as he deftly removes gold ornaments and his crest, parting grey and gold robes until Charon is bare- and Hermes can hardly catch his breath-

Nestled between bony ribs, where ashen skin meets a silvery fissure- as if split open by Erebus himself- Nyx had poured her heart between the canyon of his ribs- filling it with constellations and wisps of nebula- twilight filled with the perpetuity of the universe- laid bare for him to see- 

“ _Beautiful…_ ” Hermes whispers, truthful, astonished, and in love…

He dips his hand in the space between, feels endless eternity lap at his fingertips before moving up, brushing against his lovers throat, cupping his cheek, watching wisps of nebula roll from his jaw as he groans, presses their foreheads together and Hermes allows himself to be swept up by oblivion.

They make haste thereafter, that much Hermes is grateful for because there was absolutely no way he could have waited much longer. He’d been dreaming of this really- dreaming and longing and now here they were- Hermes laying on his side, Charon at his back, languidly making love to him.

Hermes' teeth dig into soft sheets, which are covered in oil and spit and cum but he can’t bring himself to care- not when his lovers nails dig into the soft skin of his hip, how his other hand grips harder behind his knee, spreading his legs further apart, nor when he groans lustful and pleased into his ear, as he slowly sinks into the messenger again and again and again-

And while Hermes doesn’t do slow- he swears he could do this for eternity- sobbing, screaming, waxing praise, and desperate pleas for more as the slick slide of Charon’s length shoots stars behind his eyes-

The delicate coil of pleasure pulls taught behind his navel, and it is getting harder for him to speak, to feel much else but this- nearly missing the cool brush of gnarled fingers lovingly running through his windswept hair as he’s fucked like they have all the time in the world.

And Hermes never stood a chance because that coil snaps- and he _screams_ , seizing as he drowns in the wisps of the universe pouring from his lovers maw, lapping delicately against his skin as he quivers and pants and relaxes- Charon letting his leg fall as he smoothes careful touches up and down his side.

And Hermes for the most part, can barely think, can barely speak, instead content with relaxing against his lover, hand reaching back and threading through silvery tousles of hair, head turning and pressing kisses against the bone of his jaw.

Charon rumbles a hum, easily pulling out, his previous releases dripping down the cleft of his rear, before he presses insistently on the space between his thighs and Hermes wheezes a laugh.

“Really, now?” The edges of his words rough, slurred and sex drunk, yet he, the attentive lover that he is, allows Charon to slot himself between strong quivering thighs, and Hermes doesn't miss the purr of approval, the way his nails bite into his sides, the teeth digging into the skin of his shoulder.

“My- aren’t you insatiable.” He breathes, recovering still as he drinks in nebula and starlight.

“ _Hnn- Hyyygr-_ “ Charon’s groan is cut off, hips stuttering as Hermes squeezes his thighs together tightly, the messenger burying his devilish smirk in the soft sheets below him.

“Now, Im no hypocrite. Im an Olympian. My insatiability is par for the course…” He replies, amused and adoring as he reaches behind him, cupping Charon’s cheek and watches as the purple flecks of his eyes glow brilliantly, the smoke and universe surrounding them now as he chases his own bliss, carnal and desperate and it isn’t long before Hermes feels his lovers release between oil slick thighs, hips stilling and groaning long and low from his quivering jaw.

Charon finally relaxes against his lovers back, strong arms sliding around him slowly, possessively, and Hermes blissfully sighs, hands running down strong arms, fingers threading with his as he whispers, a promise passed between kindred souls, “It’s alright, my love… Im not going anywhere…”

_And he stays once more._

——

He isn’t quite used to sleep or just… laying around. But it’s something he reckons he could get used to very very quickly all things considering.

Hermes stretches out underneath silk sheets, feels the gnarled hand of his lover gently pressing along the divots of his spine and Hermes releases a breath because he feels _at home_ -

“ _Hnnngrryyyrr…_ ”

“I slept quite fine! More than fine actually!” The course edges of his words and the soreness in his throat makes the messenger blush.

Charon for the most part, is silent, lilac eyes glowing softly, affectionately as he seems to drink in the sight of him, yet there is also an unspoken tension- unsaid as his hand squeezes his hip and it presses a frown on the edge of Hermes’ lips, even more so when the boatman groans, “ _Hnnnnggrrr…Lhhhhhnnnrr…?_ ”

And Hermes pauses, brows raised but it doesn’t take him too long to consider this question because he simply replies, “No…”

And he feels Charon relax and he laughs, affection making him dizzy, voice light, “No… I said so myself, yes? Im not leaving. Not yet anyways.”

“ _Hnnnnrrrr…_ ”

“I know there’s plenty of work to be done- many many messages to be sent but well-“ Hermes smiles, rolling onto his back, spread against silk sheets and alive as he drinks in _infinity forevermore_ , “-they can wait.”

_And just as he says, they do._

_As does he._

**Author's Note:**

> this is unbetaed so i do apologize for any mistakes and ill be honest, I'm not the most knowledgable when it comes to greek mythology so there may be some stuff wrong as well!
> 
> oh and sorry if this makes no sense in the context of the game! i...honestly have a hard time conceptualizing time in relation to...other things(i blame current events for that) or if they are ooc in any way!
> 
> Also i tried to style this in a way that...reflected Hermes' thoughts? i tried to make it snappy and quick but Im sorry if it more so comes across as confusing!
> 
> Anyways- i had this idea- that yknow charon being this primordial being, the son of the night(nyx) and abyss(Erebus) and what have you- would reflect that somewhat in how he looked and then i thought, "well wouldn't it be cool if his fog breath was nebula and he had the universe inside his chest and-" and then i couldn't get to the computer fast enough.
> 
> I hope this all makes sense and you all enjoy! There isn't enough content of them and i was parched and so decided to post this ahhh
> 
> I also have a twitter(that i barely use but promised i would get into one day so might as well start now) @sovereignzenith if you wanted to shoot me a message and scream at me at how adorable these two are and how great hades is because I'm honestly obsessed!
> 
> Edit: just a few minor cleanups!


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